"...Relevant agencies have now confird a serious nuclear accident at Island Nuclear Power Plant, due to a previous earthquake, radioactive materials leaked to the outside."
"The governnt is discussing how to deal with these nuclear contaminants. According to insider information, the disposal thod might include dumping the pollutants into the ocean for dilution..."
"Damn it!" blurted Lille.
The latest news was playing on the TV, and Lille couldn’t help but curse instinctively.
Having experience in the nuclear industry himself, he was appalled by such handling thods.
Contaminants must be treated to et safety standards before they can be buried or discharged. How could it sound like these people were planning to skip this step?
(For the sake of the plot, please don’t associate it with reality.)
"Lille! No swearing! And besides, we have guests over!" Maya imdiately chastised him with her chopsticks against his bowl.
"Uh... I an, I..." Lille struggled to find words, as he couldn’t think of a proper term to describe such disposal thods.
In his world, just like in the world of Cyberpunk 2077, many nuclear experints had been conducted in the ocean, and nuclear waste and pollutants had even been discharged there.
Decades later, all these acts played a significant role in the ever-shrinking living space for humanity...
But those responsible had long passed away, leaving a ss for the younger generations who were mockingly dubbed "The Dood Generation."
Matt chid in to defend Lille: "Such behavior is clearly irresponsible. Honestly, I think they deserve every curse word."
Maya nodded in agreent, "Yes, but swearing is wrong. You must learn to use civilized language."
Lille quietly continued eating, realizing that everyone agreed on the issue. Yet he knew he should maintain civility in front of family and children.
As he ate, he thought to himself that he must find a way to resolve this problem if he could.
The not-so-bright lights flickered a bit, indicating unstable electricity, as they shone over the quiet dinner table.
Finishing her thought, Maya discreetly wiped her eyes, "I truly wish your father could see this."
Lille remained silent, as he had no mory of his father, only knowledge from family records that he was once a chef, later becoming a truck driver.
Working overti to earn more money, his father had an accident while Lille was unconscious.
Sighing, Lille beca introspective.
In both lives, his parents were so similar.
Lille decided to be straightforward, "Mom, I want to know how much we still owe."
Maya was taken aback, at a loss for words.
Lille shrugged, "Don’t worry, I just need to have an idea. I think I can learn sothing from Matt and help reduce the family’s burden.
Knowing a rough figure will give motivation."
Matt paused, then collaboratively added, "Yes, I think Lille is very... perceptive and sharp-witted. He might even beco a lawyer in the future."
To Maya, those words seed hollow, as Lille had only completed half of high school, and attending college seed almost impossible.
Even community college wasn’t an option.
Nevertheless, she managed a strained smile, "Lille... you don’t need to worry about that. Just focus on getting better. Many people from our community have helped us. As your father always said, we should be grateful and help each other.
Thank you, Mr. Murdoch, but I still hope Lille can focus on recovering."
Hearing this response pained Lille.
After all, the only one confident in surviving was himself. His condition was so severe that even Maya wasn’t optimistic about his longevity.
Perhaps Maya hoped for Lille to live out his last days as happily as possible.
Lille nodded, "I will. Matt, I rember you said you wanted to talk about sothing—shall I walk you part of the way?"
"Uh... of course. Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Li. If you need help with anything, rember to call ."
"Oh, okay..." Maya hesitated, originally intending to tell Lille to stay ho and she would see Matt out herself.
But upon reflection, lying in bed all the ti might not be beneficial.
"Then you... take it slow, co straight ho after, it’s not safe outside."
"Alrighty."
...
Apartnt 441 on West 40th Street, that’s where Lille’s ho and rent were located.
Upon exiting, they saw the landlord trying to scrub off graffiti from the wall, muttering curse words under his breath.
The landlord seed like an immigrant himself, speaking English with an unauthentic accent.
He greeted Lille and Matt amicably as they left the building.
In Lille’s mory, their family owned a house, which, unexpectedly, they must have sold.
As they walked, Matt said to Lille:
"Mr. Rigordo is a good man. A total of eight families live here, including yours, all of whom are immigrants from various places.
He rents only to foreign immigrants with no criminal records. He says that being immigrants in this strange land, we should help each other out."
"Is he also an immigrant?"
"He’s Arican, but Old Rigordo is an immigrant, just like your mother; they both co from Latovia."
Lille was montarily stunned, as old mories quickly flickered through his mind.
Latovia? So his mother and Doctor Destruction co from the sa place?
But in his mories, King Dum wasn’t a figure that existed, and Latovia was still a small feudal state.
Lille said, "This is good news—I was just thinking that we should unite as a community."
In the United States, land use rights belong to individuals; theoretically, as long as the owners are unwilling to cooperate, Kingpin couldn’t really demolish and rebuild.
Therefore, the so-called urban redevelopnt could only proceed under extraordinary circumstances, such as now, long after the internet bubble burst and the real estate finance completely collapsed.
People lost jobs, couldn’t pay back their loans or afford property taxes, credit destroyed, everyone was in danger.
But not everyone was like that, so just had to tighten their belts more, like the honest and unsophisticated landlord Rigordo with little to no expenses.
Going big on infrastructure was a way to stimulate the economy, and apparently, Kingpin had convinced the politicians.
But how had he convinced holdouts like Rigordo?
Matt looked at Lille with surprise again, "Good idea, we should definitely unite, but... right when the redevelopnt project started, a hoowners association just beyond your four streets disbanded."
The reason was that the president of the association died, a toothpick found in his throat led to bleeding in the windpipe that suffocated him in his ho.
Since then, two more presidents of nearby hoowners associations died, all with the sa thod: toothpicks."
"Done by United Construction Company?"
"No evidence." Matt replied calmly, his interior turmoil hidden, "The NYPD considers the lack of evidence to indicate homicide, so it’s treated as bad luck, with the presidents accidentally falling and the toothpicks fortuitously inserting themselves."
"However..."
"However, although there’s no evidence at the scene, such identical thods of death can hardly be coincidental, and that’s what those guys intended.
Everyone knows it’s the gangs’ doing, but the NYPD doesn’t know—they have already closed the case?"
Matt nodded, "Case closed, but I know so in the departnt have their opinions, but they each have their own areas of responsibility."
"What about your prosecutor friend? If there’s enough evidence, would he initiate a retrial?"
"Of course—he would, but there is no evidence."
Reaching the crossroads, Matt stopped, and so did Lille.
Face to face, Matt sincerely said to Lille:
"Lille, this is dangerous, are you sure you want to get involved?
Selfishly, I really hope soone will stand up to the criminals, whether it’s the Kate Logistics case or the recent developnts in Hell’s Kitchen.
But thinking of you, a kid who has been in a coma for two and a half years, I know I must advise you. Go ho, at least... you still have a ho."
Opposing the gangs holds no good ending; even if you’re not against them, helping them leads to almost no good outco either.
You either lose your conscience or your life, often both slipping from your grasp.
Lille shook his head, "It’s precisely because I have a ho that I must take control before things get worse.
In the doctor’s eyes, I was unconscious for two and a half years, but I was conscious, overwheld with fear.
I feared losing everything I had, I feared ending up with nothing.
And now, standing here talking to you, I have family that loves , a kind landlord, and other good people in the community.
People are driven by emotions, and if everything is too late, I believe the fear and regret that woke will also drive to do sothing.
But for now, I only hope what drives will always be kindness, love, and other beautiful things."
Matt was stunned; he couldn’t believe these were the words of an 18-year-old—effectively only 15 in mind.
A person is haunted their whole life by the precious things they’ve lost, just like Matt himself—he lost his eyesight, lost his family; was it still justice that drove him, or was it more about revenge?
"...it sounds a bit absurd." Matt managed a wry smile and said, "Maybe from the beginning, I’ve felt you could be soone to take on such a risk, which is why I shared so much with you."
"Rather than a risk, I prefer to call it responsibility."
Lille turned his head, his gaze passing over the holess drifter clad in tattered clothes, the leaking manhole cover, the dirty streets, the ill-intentioned thugs...
And they landed on the glittering skyscrapers of Manhattan.
Cyberpunk 2077 is a twisted and oppressive world; is this place any better, any more relaxing in reality?
If you don’t want to change the status quo, it will change you; if you don’t strive, soone will... force you to strive, in a direction you never wanted.
Lille thought silently of many things past, and Matt sank into silence as well.
Then Lille suddenly said:
"The light’s green."
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